


Blue Light

by SunflowerSpectre



Series: Works of 2020 [9]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24712378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSpectre/pseuds/SunflowerSpectre
Summary: Going on the lead of the location of an old friend, the 10th Doctor visits an intergalactic concert with the hopes that there is some truth to the rumor. Ft. Original Alien Species and OC
Series: Works of 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611430





	Blue Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeepestKoalaPeach](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=DeepestKoalaPeach).



> Songfic!  
> Orphan No Namida by MISIA

_Orphans’ tears, love bears the burden of sorrow because it can make it stronger_

_You’re on my mind; can you hear the blues that the sky sings?_

Out of all the places that he has visited, the Doctor has to admit that this planet is quickly becoming one of his favorites; Earth still holds a special place in his mind, but this place definitely holds its place as a solid second favorite.

Much like Earth, the planet is brilliant in its own ways housing two separate alien species as its native species. It holds a sense of unity and peace that most places lack; he has never seen such vastly different species get along so well. Though he supposes if anyone could do it it would the Alyas.

The two species have extended their sense of peace to all corners of the multiverse, opening a specific concert lounge that hosts many different events throughout its cycles. Events from concerts, to weddings, to karaoke; a part of him bemoans the fact that he just missed the karaoke night. 

But no matter the event, it has created a safe space for many different species and aliens to enjoy. No violence tolerated and not even so much as a whisper of anything negative or violent ever occurring, if the rumors and reputation are anything to go by. At first, he was a bit worried about attending the lounge, having seen violence in the most unexpected places, he held the rumor of it being so peaceful at arms length until he was able to see it for himself; to his relief, the peaceful reputation goes beyond what he imagined it would be.

The accommodations that they are making for everyone is spectacularly brilliant. From the personal refreshments for every species imaginable to the specially made seats for certain species, the list goes on.It amazes him, but it also makes his heart aches when he realizes that not every planet is so welcoming.

Still, he has to admit that the Alyas have done fairly well since their time with the Time Lords on Gallifrey.

It has been a long time since he has visited any of their kind, he will admit. Partly because he has been avoiding them, partly because he was not sure if he would be welcomed. The Alyas used to be an ally to the Time Lords, forced friends of sorts that worked together for common goals. 

They always lent their special abilities and knowledge to Gallifrey - even more so during the war. Being one of the few species that could keep up with the ever-changing Time Lords. That among their own special reasons made them a very powerful friend and ally to Gallifrey. 

But then, like most things with Time Lords, they had to go and mess that up.

_Ah… The blue light that rises in the dark night hides your loneliness_

_The only thing that remains after the battle is sorrow._

_What do soldiers see in the fragments of their dreams?_

The Doctor nurses a fruity drink; granted, he actually is not one hundred percent sure what is in it. He just ordered something non-alcoholic and safe for his species. Anything humans could have, he could have, is what he told them, keeping his exact kind more vague. The four-armed bartender immediately served him up this. 

He is, at least, delighted to figure out the fruit used in it is from the planet Barcelona; that planet has always been a fantastic place that has tickled him silly. Though as tasty as it is, he can not quite place where the odd almost metallic taste comes from. _Orilina maybe,_ he muses, smacking his lips at the taste, but the drink is finished before he can put the pieces together.

His eyes go to the singer on stage. Despite being surrounded by the Alya, the center star of the night is MISIA. She performs beautifully, as expected from her and her reputation. The holographic screens surrounding the platform are lit up with messages about environmental peace, as per her reputation. It is suiting, he thinks, for her to be a good friend to the Alya kind. 

He smiles as he gestures for the bartender to give him another drink, almost wanting to distract himself from the Alya’s presence.

He remembers the Alya well. He remembers how different they were from the Time Lords. They never minced their words, unafraid to tell the Gallifreyans exactly what they believed and what they thought of certain plans or ideas. They were straightforward, honest. Good peoples - good species. He rather liked them - and the way that they made certain council members squirm was a bonus.

They have always been committed to the betterment and peace of the universe. Against the over harvesting of other planets, never wanting anyone to get hurt or killed as a result of greed. Always prepared to save everyone if they could. 

Much unlike the arrogance of the council of Time Lords and their race superiority. He scoffs against the drink, still smacking his lips as he tries to figure out the different sources within it. The others were always so boring, always wanting to be perfect, always had to be the best. Never liked that someone could be better than them at anything.

When he closes his eyes, he can still see the jealous rage in their eyes at the Alya; hear the whispered conversations full of spiteful hatred. The strained tension between their so-called friendship and how one day, he always thought that the tension would snap. He wonders if it would have had the war never happened or if they would have been able to move on.

He never quite understood why the others couldn’t see just how wonderful the Alya are, why they couldn’t cherish the friendship that they had with them. Why they never saw how beautiful, how absolutely amazing and powerful their allies were.

_Orphans, now we send a ship called hope out to the sky_

_You’re on my mind; in this instant, the sky sings the blues._

_Orphans, friends, did you know the reason for your fight when you waved at me?_

It is nice to see some of Alya scattered throughout the lounge of the bar between the patrons of many species. Having not seen them in such a long time, it warms both of his hearts to see the species doing so well and for thriving despite the mistreatment that his kind gave them.

The Alya have always held such a special place in his hearts; their natural born ability for time travel being the most fascinating concept that he has ever had the pleasure of seeing in all of his lives, across the entire multiverse he has never seen anything like them. _Living, sentient stars being everywhere and nowhere all once,_ he thinks almost wistfully, _just absolutely brilliant._

It truly is a pity that the others never saw the wonder in the Alya, clouded by their racial prejudice and jealousy. Being so swept up into the concept of time travel, dedicating themselves entirely to it, but never being able to match up to what another species naturally possesses. It made the council bitter; it made them _all_ bitter. They tried to abuse the Alyas’ natural gifts, tried to figure out how to colonize it, use it to their advantage. Always wondering how it can be used to be better than their ships until their ships were better than the Alya. 

But never the Doctor. He never understood the bitterness and envy. He never saw why no one could just look to the Alya as the inspiration they are instead of as rivals or harsh competitors.

_Love on my mind; in this age, we sing our grief through the blues_

_Bring peace to my beloved and happiness to the departed_

_What remains after soldiers’ dreams?_

Each Alya never fails to spot him. It almost makes him want to leave before a scene can be started, before the daydream he created about seeing them again can be shattered. But instead, each of them greet him with a chirping-warp like noise of content and happiness. None of them are bitter toward him.

Every one of the Alya have chirped happily at his presence, beaming brightly with joy. Their non-corporeal forms are portrayed as balls of just endless light, not blindly per say, but close. He feels like most species would not be able to look at them for long if they were to shine in all of their glory, but each star twinkles brilliantly enough to still be seen safely.

 _Like a distant star on the horizon,_ the Doctor muses. He glances toward the stage where some of the Alya have taken to floating beautifully around MISIA as she sings. The dark low light of the bar only makes their light that much more breathtaking. Each orb of light floats around the singer majestically and slowly, giving the entire concert a more ethereal, magical element to it. 

Some float above the patrons, others conversing within the crowd. The ones that float above the patrons are the ones who float near him the most, like curious innocent beings not believing what they are seeing. But considering that he has not been kicked out or asked to leave yet and that they have only greeted him kindly, he takes it as a sign that he is welcome. 

But no matter how many star beings he sees, he still does not see the one that he is looking for. The one whose rumored presence brought him to the planet in the first place. 

_Orphan’s tears, people know sadness because it makes them more gentle,_

_Peace of mind, can you hear it?_

There were a few whispers in the galaxy about his dear old friend attending this concert; or that she at least planned to. He had hoped that he would be able to catch her here, run into her and reminisce. To be able to seek her forgiveness.

 _What is that she is going by nowadays?_ It is always so hard to keep track of who goes by what name in what time period. Similar to how he never knows what name an _Elizabeth_ would go by and when - sometimes it is _Liz, Lizzie or_ even _Beth._ Sometimes, oddly enough, it is _Betsy. Betsy,_ he scoffs just at the mention of it. Others slapped him when he asked. He would rather avoid being slapped by his friend if he could help it, but it is not his fault that everyone is always changing their name and he knows so many names that it is hard to stay on track.

Then again, he supposes that some would ponder the same confusion over his many faces and personalities. But at least his name always stays the same, he always argues.

He hums thoughtfully on the name that his friend is going by now, his drink empty and loosely waving in his hand. Finally, a light bulb goes off and with a snap of his fingers, he remembers the name that was mentioned in the rumors.

 _Aurelia._ Suiting enough, he supposes, but not quite as enchanting as the Gallifreyan name that she was given. _Alyethinletrenmorlal._ He always thought that it was such a beautiful name for her; perfect for her enchanting character and her brilliant light.

But, he rethinks, it is a bit of a mouthful for most species. It would be rather a nightmare to those who can’t pronounce their _l’s_ and _t’s._ He knows how hard his own name would be to pronounce on a normal basis for most species, especially humans who are always giving themselves shorter and shorter names.

He also can not blame her for wanting to create a new name for herself. For wanting to create some distance from the Gallifreyan Time Lords; wanting to create a new life, a new start, _a new face._ A hand absently goes to his glasses. Yes, he could relate to that very well.

_The sky sings a song of grief to you through the blues_

_Orphans, now we send a ship called hope out to the sky_

_You’re on my mind; in this instant, the sky sings the blues._

The concert is almost over when he finally gives up; the other Alya try their best to get him to stay or to comfort him, but he does not have the heart to stay any longer when he knows that it will not happen. Though he does his best to reassure the Alya that fret after him that he did indeed love the concert and enjoyed their presence again; both of which are true, despite the way his smile does not quite reach his eyes.

Both of his hearts weigh heavily in his chest, disappointment bubbling under his skin. He knew that it was a long shot. No one has really heard from her in - _oh what is it now_ , _55 million years or so?_

At the realization that it has been _that_ long, the weight in his chest gets even heavier. Despite it being so long, he had desperately clung onto the hope that it would hold some truth with it. He desperately wanted to see her; wanted to apologize, to talk to her, to just see face something from his past for once.

The fact that this is where the Alya has settled, he had started to really believe that she may turn up. Though he has time traveled and his sense of time is wonky at best, every moment that he spent in the lounge waiting for her felt like a lifetime. Each passing moment had dashed on his hopes. Each Alya he saw that turned out not to be the right one crushed him. Every Alya that greeted him made him both delighted and disappointed. 

He returns to his TARDIS, sagging and sighing. The old girl hums, trying her best to comfort him in the way that only she can, when he starts to turn the key into the door. The door to the TARDIS swings open and gives one last longing look toward the lounge, as if he would be able to finally spot her, but he is met with nothing.

He turns away with a sigh and he is just about to step in when a light beams from behind him. Turning, he is met with a brilliant light form - _a familiar light form._

_Orphans, friends, A future of freedom is described in your hands_

_Love on my mind; in this age, we sing our grief through the blues_

Alyethinletrenmorla - or Aurelia, he supposes now. He turns with baited breath, looking at her as she glows before him. The wisps of her light reach out almost playfully - if her sense of humor is anything like it was back then, then he imagines that she is getting quite a kick out of being so dramatic.

Finally, a warping-distorted voice speaks out to him.

_“Hello, Doctor.”_


End file.
